send her to Bridewell.
- Father, I have a headache.
- I smoke it.
I smoke it!
Tom is the father of that bastard!
Aye! As sure as tuppence,
Tom is the bastard's father!
Father...
Odds zodikins!
What a little whoremaster that boy is!
The girl is ruined, surely.
Aye! Ruined. Ruined for sure!
Once broken, never mended, eh?
Lt'll do no harm. Ask Sophie.
She knows about Tom.
You have no worse opinion of a young
fellow for getting a bastard, have you?
Will you stop bobbing up and down, girl!
No, no. The women will like him
the better for it, won't they?
- Sophie, sing us one of your jolly songs.
- Not tonight, Father. I have a headache.
Let's have "St George, He Was
for England" or "Bobbing Joan".
That's a good song for tonight, eh?
None of your old Handel now,
my little darling.
(harpsichord)
Ah, you play like an angel.
Molly's reputation was destroyed,
and Tom's heart was heavy with remorse.
Perhaps Mr Square had been right,
that the wicked are snared
in the work of their own hands.
Oh. Mr Jones.
- Where's Molly?
- Oh, she... she ain't home.
She's upstairs. In bed.
(sister cackles)
- Who is it?
- It's me. Tom.
Why haven't you been
to see me before this, Tom?
- Molly, I...
- Agh!
- You said you'd be my gentleman!
- I hope to explain why...
You'll not admit you've had
your wicked will of me?!
- Molly...
- No.
I shall never love
another man but you, Tom.
Not if the greatest squire in the country
came a-courtin',
I couldn't give myself to him!
No, Tom, not for all the riches in the
world, now that you've gained my heart.
You are a lecherous rascal after all, Tom!
I shall always hate and despise
the whole sex on account of you, Tom!
Mr Square.
Molly's favours, after all,
had not been bestowed on Tom alone.
Our hero, unlike many other men,
was fortunate enough to discover
the father of his child in time.
And after everyone's kindness, too.
She has laid the child
at young Mr Jones's door.
All the parish say Mr Allworthy is so angry
with Mr Jones that he won't see him.
To be sure, one can't help
pitying the poor young man.
He's so pretty a gentleman. I should
be sorry to see him turned out-of-doors.
Why do you tell me all this? What concern
have I in what Mr Jones does?
Why, ma'am, I never thought it was any
harm to say a young man was handsome.
But I shall never think of him any more
now. For handsome is as handsome does.
Tittle-tattle, tittle-tattle.
I shall be late for the hunt.
Sorry, I'm sure, madam.
Everyone in my household!
Where's the cider?
Greetings! Greetings!
- Greetings, Thwackum.
- Morning, Squire. Morning, Miss Western.
Welcome, everyone.
Morning, Western.
Oh, you brute!
- Morning.
- And you, sir.
Ah, you're getting no younger.
I mean the horse, madam.
A stirrup cup, everyone!
Come, help yourselves, everyone!
Plenty to eat and drink!
Here. The Church is always first
with the bread and wine.
Health to everyone!
French miss isn't speaking today?
Drink up, everyone.
- Huntsmen, loose the hounds.
- Another tankard, please.
Come on, boys and girls!
Come on, come on!
Have a drop of cider inside you, boy.
Then you'll be ready for the kill.
Come on, drink up. Drink up, everyone.
Come on, drink up!
Some Western brew for you, my girl!
Squire, it's too early! You'll tire yourself!
Quiet, everyone.
Good health and good hunting!
Come on, Sophie! Hurry, hurry!
(Western) Come on, sweetheart! After him!
Tally-ho!
Ahhh! Here he is!
(horse whinnies)
- I trust you're not harmed.
- No, no. How can I ever thank you?
If I have preserved you, madam,
I am sufficiently repaid. Agh...
I hope you're not hurt.
If I have broken my arm, it is a trifle
compared to my fears on your account.
Broken your arm?!
I'm afraid I have, madam.
Yet I have another to lead you home.
Look at him, ma'am. He's the most
handsome man I ever